The trial began.
Each minute felt like an eternity.
The fatigue from the previous night began to show. Holding the sword with arms extended was not an easy task, and even less so after the run and the brief rest.
Aren felt his arm burn and sweat run down his back. Beside him, Bromir clenched his jaw, breathing with controlled force. Hal kept his posture, but his legs were trembling. Lysander was already pale.
Eryndor did not seem affected.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
The instructor walked around the group, observing in silence. His boots echoed with each step.
Suddenly, Lysander let out a small groan.
"I-I can't feel my hand…", he whispered, barely audible.
Aren instinctively turned his head.
"Don't talk," Hal murmured through clenched teeth.
The gnome pressed his lips together, but his arm began to lower slowly.
"Raise your weapon!" the instructor ordered immediately.
Lysander did so with an awkward movement.
"I'm sorry…" he said in desperation. "Just a second…"
The instructor did not respond.
He kept walking.
Aren felt the urge to say something or help his companion.
But he didn't.
'Obey,' he told himself. 'Just obey.'
Time became blurred.
When the instructor finally raised his hand, Aren could no longer feel his arm.
"Enough," he ordered. "Lower your weapons."
The sound of wood hitting the floor echoed through the room.
Lysander collapsed beside his sword, breathing with difficulty.
"First part completed," the instructor said. "For most of you."
His gaze settled on the gnome.
"You spoke."
Lysander looked up, terrified.
"I-it was just—"
"It doesn't matter," the instructor cut him off. "You broke the order."
He turned toward the rest of the group.
"The rule was clear. No one speaks or moves."
Aren felt a knot form in his stomach.
"Therefore," the instructor continued, "the group has failed."
Bromir clenched his fists.
"But he was the only one—"
"The group fails or succeeds," the instructor repeated. "That is the rule."
Everyone fell silent.
Aren did not feel well.
'I should have done something, even if I had been punished,' he thought.
He clenched his fists, feeling powerless and disappointed. Then he remembered Aveline's words.
<
<
Resigned, he sighed and limited himself to following the instructor's order, as the man commanded the group to return to the courtyard.
When they arrived, they noticed that other groups were already formed, some with tense expressions, others confused.
He could even see newly arrived recruits being registered.
Captain Rorik stepped into the center.
"The second part of the trial will begin now," he announced. "Team combat!"
Training weapons and light shields were handed out.
"However, not everyone will fight under equal conditions," he added. "Those groups that failed the first part…"
He pointed at several teams, including Aren's.
"Will fight with restrictions."
An instructor stepped forward.
"One member per group will be left out."
Silence fell instantly.
"Decide," he ordered.
Glances crossed.
Lysander stepped forward.
"Me," he said, his voice firm this time. "I was the one who spoke."
Aren opened his mouth.
"No—"
"It's the right thing," the gnome insisted. "If someone has to pay, let it be me."
The instructor nodded.
"Out."
Lysander set down his weapon and moved to the stands without looking back.
Aren felt anger.
Not toward him.
Toward the situation.
Aren's group, now with one less member, was paired against a full team. From the start, the difference was clear. It wasn't just the numbers. It was the accumulated emotional strain, the tension still lingering from what had happened with Lysander.
Aren closed his fingers around the hilt of his training sword and advanced with the others. The dull sound of wood striking wood began to fill the courtyard.
The teams crashed into each other with a chaotic mix of nerves and restrained aggression. Aren blocked the first blow that came at him and responded with a clean movement, turning his wrist to deflect the attack and counter at the side.
The recruit stepped back, surprised.
'It worked,' Aren thought, with no time to celebrate.
Bromir slammed into two opponents with his shield, growling like a cornered beast. Hal moved quickly, searching for flanks, striking, and retreating before he could be surrounded. Eryndor fought with almost cold precision, every movement measured, wasting no energy.
Aren took another step forward… and then he saw her.
Golden hair, firm posture, sword raised without hesitation.
Aveline.
'What a situation for a second meeting,' he thought.
He had no time to think further.
Aveline moved straight toward him and attacked.
Aren barely managed to raise his sword to block. The impact was brutal. The force behind the blow ran through his arm like a shock, pushing him back two steps.
'What…?'
Aveline gave him no respite. She overwhelmed him with consecutive strikes.
Each blow was direct, without unnecessary movement.
Aren clenched his teeth and forced himself to focus.
He remembered the hours in the mansion courtyard. His instructor's voice. The stances and control of balance.
He took a deep breath.
When Aveline attacked again, Aren did not block head-on. He turned his body, deflected the sword just enough, and used the opening to counter with a diagonal cut aimed at her shoulder.
Aveline stepped back this time.
Her eyes narrowed.
"So you do know how to fight," she said, not lowering her guard.
"Enough," Aren replied, breathing hard.
For a moment, the rest of the battle disappeared.
The shouts, the blows, the bodies falling… everything became background noise.
It was just the two of them.
Aveline attacked again, this time changing her rhythm. A high feint, followed by a low strike that almost caught Aren's leg.
He jumped back on instinct, barely avoiding the impact.
'She doesn't follow patterns,' he thought. 'She doesn't have technique.'
Aren responded with a sequence he had practiced hundreds of times: side step, deflection, strike to the side, retreat. Clean, studied movements.
The wooden sword collided with Aveline's with a sharp sound.
She smiled.
It wasn't mockery.
It was excitement.
"This is getting interesting."
Aveline advanced with more force. Each strike carried real intent. She wasn't holding back.
Aren felt the fatigue in his arms; the pain carried over from the previous trial. But he also felt something else.
Determination.
'I can't lose,' he thought. 'Not now.'
He lunged forward, risking more than he should. He deflected a blow and spun, using the momentum to strike from an unexpected angle. The sword hit Aveline's side, forcing her back several steps.
For the first time, her stance broke.
Aren raised his sword, ready to continue… and then he heard the horn.
The sound cut through the courtyard like a blade.
"Stop!" a voice ordered.
Both of them froze.
Aren was breathing hard. Sweat ran down his forehead. Aveline was also panting, but her gaze remained steady.
Around them, the fight had ended.
Aren looked at his team.
Bromir was on his knees, leaning on his shield. Hal was holding his side, breathing with difficulty. Eryndor was still standing, but clearly marked by blows.
Captain Rorik stepped into the center of the courtyard.
"Enough."
His gaze swept over the recruits, pausing for a moment on Aren and Aveline.
"Clear result."
He turned toward Aren's group.
"Defeat."
A weight fell onto Aren's chest when he heard those words.
"What!?" he exclaimed, clearly confused.
The second trial had ended. However, the result was more painful than the wounds of the fight.